


Too Much Is Never Enough

by Love_andbalance



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Kink, No Pregnancy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reylo - Freeform, Safe to Read if Triggered by Pregnancy, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_andbalance/pseuds/Love_andbalance
Summary: Rey always wanted someone to fill all the empty places inside her. Ben has already filled her heart and his hands might just be big enough to fill the rest of her.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 13
Kudos: 86
Collections: Kinkuary Prompt Challenge





	Too Much Is Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is just for fun, I apologize for any inaccuracies.

Two fingers and anticipation.

That’s how it always begins, with him giving her just enough to make her want more. The flex of his fingers is safe, easy, a comfortable slide using nothing more than the wet that her body naturally creates for him.

She creates plenty- and how could she not when he was settled between the wide spread of her thighs and staring at the hot seeping hole of her cunt with such an intense focus- but it won’t be enough.

None of the things she has now- the ease and the safety and the comfort- will last, and when they go, she will need more than her own juices to ease his presence.

Soon he will demand space, and her body- pushed to the limits of what it can endure based on her will alone- will create it for him.

She wants it and she knows, can tell from the gleam in his eyes and the focused line of his lips as he looks at her, that he wants it, too. It’s elusive, this thing that they’ve spent months chasing, and even after all that they’ve done, it has danced just outside of their grasp.

Rey has no problems admitting that she wanted it first. They’d been fucking casually back then, since he’d stumbled into the bar she worked in wearing one of the ridiculous suits he wore on the days he was teaching. Something about her wild had appealed to him and she’d wanted nothing more than to ruffle his feathers. It was a whirlwind romance of opposites and she’d never even set so much a single toe on campus of the university in town until the day she’d swung by to blow him in his office with her knees on his fancy carpet and his hands tangled in her hair. Something about the look on his face had tugged unexpectedly at her heart.

A week later, she’d asked for this.

When she’d settled into his lap in her shirt black miniskirt and wiggled against the stiff fabric of his perfectly ironed slacks as she’d whispered her secret desires in his ear…he’d looked at her and then at his hands with wide disbelieving eyes.

“Why?” he’d asked, the shock evident in his eyes and his tone.

She’d bit her lip, torn between desire and embarrassment. “I want to know if I can,” she’d said, giving him a half truth that she’d hoped would placate him, but he’d narrowed his eyes, always too perceptive. He saw everything that she wished he didn’t.

“Why?”

“I just…” she’d hedged, struggling to form words that made sense, even to her. “I just want someone to want me that much, I want to want someone else that much.”

He’d surprised her by staring at her for a long silent moment and then nodding solemnly. “Okay.”

The months since then hadn’t been easy. She’d fought him was much as her body had, each of them giving to his stubborn insistence by slow degrees until he’d taken nearly all of her.

She still isn’t sure how it had happened, how he’d watched her with those honey over whiskey eyes and overridden her survival instincts until she was settled into an apartment that they shared or how she’d come to like it. All she knows is that she can no longer imagine a life without him in it.

Without his smile over breakfast, without his breath on her neck, without  _ this. _

She wants it now more than she ever has, to overcome that last final bit that stands between them and be closer to him than she’s ever been to anyone else. To be filled and taken completely, wrecked, ruined, owned.

The sound that creeps past her lips when he adds a third finger is a whimper, a whine of need as she drips around his hand, her arousal coating them both so that the thick press of his fingers moves inside her with ease. Once, even this had been difficult, but he’d made room for this and more so that now all she feels is pleasure and a desperate yearning for what she knows comes next.

The dance is familiar to both of them and when she bucks up her hips to seek more of him, he only whispers words of love against her thighs and holds her down with one hand splayed across her stomach as the other works his fingers inside her, widening them and pressing against the entrance to her body at one angle and then another until the snug fit gives beneath his patience and her desire and he’s able stack his fingers and slide another one in.

She huffs, a quick little breath that she pushes out of her nose when he presses down and pushes in until four fingers, the outer two stacked neatly on top of the two in the center, are knuckle deep inside her cunt. It’s tighter now, almost uncomfortable even with the months of work they’ve done and how wet she is and she knows that they’ll need the lube soon when the friction builds between his skin and the hot silken walls that she flutters involuntarily around him.

Her clit aches, but she knows he won’t give her any relief, that he needs her desperate and aching and wanting if her body has any chance of being willing to take him, so she doesn’t ask. She just grits her teeth on a whine as he rocks his hand and creates more room, pressing and widening his fingers even as they stroke her.

He works her through until she relaxes, until her fingers on the sheets uncurl and her legs fall open a little wider, the stretch forgotten under the steady rhythm of his hand.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his eyes never moving from the place where his body joins hers. “Do you think you can take more?”

She can, she has before, so just nods, sighing at the sudden emptiness when he pulls his fingers out of her. He stares at her for a long moment and she wonders what he sees when he looks at her like this, when she’s spread as far as she can be for him and the little hole that he fucks is still soft and molded to the shapes of his fingers. He doesn’t say, but his eyes are dark and hungry when he reaches for the lube on the bedside table.

It’s warmer on his fingers than it is when he drips it onto her cunt.

She sets her heels to the mattress beneath her and counts the deep breaths that she takes when he begins again. Four fingers, no longer quite so stacked as he pushes in past the knuckles and she can feel the hard ridges of his bones as he twists his hand inside her. She’s so full that she can feel him move, each flex of his fingers, each twitch of his hand taking up the space until she’s sure that there can be no more room left. She’s breathing hard, but her want now is not about pleasure. She still has some, at the edge of the stretch and the boundary of the fullness, but that is not what she seeks. Her want is about him, it’s about taking what he’s giving her and hearing the quiet praise as her body does what it almost cannot do and maybe, reasonably, should not do, if reason still lived in the space inside her mind.

There is no space inside her mind now, because now there is only the space inside her cunt and his four fingers. That is all that there will be for her until he pulls them out. When he does, she counts her breaths again, her body relaxing during this small reprieve, because she knows what comes next.

More lube, a steadying hand, words of praise that she cannot understand through her mind's haze, and his hand, immense and huge even as it tries to make itself small. Her world narrows as her cunt stretches until he fills her senses again and all she knows is four fingers curved around the fifth, his thumb tucked in the cavern the others make.

She keens, soft sounds and panting breaths filling the room as he rocks his hand inside her, filling her slowly and inexorably until he can tell by the tone of her whines and the stiff lock of her muscles that she’s taken all she can for the moment. He stills, giving her room and the time she needs to breathe and relax, her muscles unclenching as he rubs her leg with his free hand and places a trail of kisses against her knee.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, and she can’t open her eyes to look at him because the stretch is too much and she thinks if she looks and sees understanding that she might give up.

She shakes her head stubbornly, determined to succeed this time.

They are well past the knuckles now, she knows this without looking because she can feel the ridge of those bones pressing into the soft walls of her cunt as she softly and deliberately tests their progress by clenching her muscles around his hand. Her body is burning with the stretch and she thinks it’s very likely that they’ve been here before, to this exact place. The place where his hand is the widest, where the little rounded meat of his thumb before it narrows again toward his wrist is just a fraction more than she can stand to accommodate.

“It’s okay if you want to stop,” he argues, and she can hear the concern in his voice. He wants this, but he wants her to be safe and happy even more.

She bites her lip, considering her choices. “Let’s just try a little distraction,” she murmurs, breaking her own rule and reaching with questing fingers for the ache of her clit. He says nothing when she rubs a gentle circle, soft and delicate, but as the feeling spreads through her body and her muscles turn limp, he eases in another small fraction and she hears him groan is satisfaction. Feeling bolder, she spreads her fingers, reaches down until she can feel the place where he’s pushing into her. His hand is huge and the skin that’s stretched around it is hot and tight. A fresh wave of arousal washes over her and with the new slick, he sinks a little further in again.

“We might,” he says huskily. “We’re so close.”

“Try again,” she urges, but the first push has her clenching down again, the movement too much.

“It’s okay,” he says again. “This was closer, so maybe next time.”

“No,” she grunts, breathing her frustration out through her teeth with the pain. “I can do this. I  _ can _ . Just…just be still.”

He quiets again as she returns her fingers to her clit. She moves slowly, carefully building the tension until it tugs at the corners of her mind and takes her attention from the ache and being overly full and stretched too far. She hums a little, breath quickening and hips working as she fucks herself softly on his hand, each rock of her hips taking him a little deeper.

It surprises them both how quickly it happens, one last shift of her hips pushes her over the widest part of him and the rest slides home. It jolts her, the sudden fullness, and she arches her hips up, feet pressed into the mattress at one and her head pushing back into the pillows at the other.

She’s suspended, eyes wide but seeing nothing but white as she clenches down hard on his fist.

“Rey,” he breathes, awestruck at what she has done for them. “Do you feel that?”

She can’t speak, can’t feel anything but that as she trembles and shakes around his hand. There’s no room left anywhere- not in her mind, or heart, or her greedy insatiable cunt. Every space that she’s ever had, all the empty places that ever ached with the need to be filled, have been filled completely.

More completely than anyone else could ever hope to do.

It’s vicious, the victory she feels, and she can tell from the way he snarls softly and sinks his teeth into her inner thigh that he feels it, too. The conqueror to her conquered.

He moves inside her softly, his hand shifting subtly as he finally gives in and gives her what she needs, his fingers on her clit setting the exact right pace as she pants and writhes. It takes only a few strokes for her over-stimulated body to explode with pleasure and she screams into her own fist as she clenches around his. She’s never come harder in her life and if it’s edged with pain that grows and grows until she has to beg him to pull his hand back out of her then she considers it well worth the fleeting discomfort.

She’s hollow after his withdrawal, but it lasts for only moments as he lifts himself over her and then sinks into her with a grunt of triumph. They’re missing the usual tightness that comes with his cock inside her, even when she squeezes around him as much as her quivering muscles are able, but he takes advantage if that hitch her leg over his hip and thrust into her with a rough and sloppy eagerness that fill the room with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

She’s still dripping with arousal and lube, so each rolling drive of his hips drives him home with a force that blinds her, the head of his cock pressing against her walls before it slams into the deepest parts of her with a finality that echoes in her stomach and radiates out into her limbs. It leaves her gasping, her body sensitive and arching beneath him. He circles his hips, searching for new angles that make her cry out and finding just the right place that hits the best place inside her while rubbing her clit against him with each stroke.

She flies apart, world shattered into fractals of consciousness where he is all that remains and she can barely hear the soft panting of his breath in her ear as he holds her close to him and empties himself inside her in a flood of warmth. His spend only adds to the mess he’s made of her and he murmurs soft praise against her temple as his hips move in small thrusts designed only to hold it in and work it deeper inside her.

She’s not ashamed of it, the hot wet drip of cum and lube that smears on her thighs and leaks out of her swollen cunt when he finally pulls out his softening cock. She knows he loves the mess they make and that he wants her to let it linger for as long as she’s able, there to remind her of his presence and the claim he has on her.

He loves that the way that she loves the hollow aching soreness that she will carry around between her legs for the next several days, there to return the memory to her mind of how full she had been and how much of him she had been able to take.

For now, curled against his chest as his heart races beneath her cheek, she doesn’t need the reminder to know how fully she belongs to him.


End file.
